


Half Agony, Half Hope

by Ellen_Fitzwilliam_Brandybuck



Series: To Be or Not to Be, That is Their Question [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Romance, Consequences, F/M, First Dance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Interspecies Romance, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Short & Sweet, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellen_Fitzwilliam_Brandybuck/pseuds/Ellen_Fitzwilliam_Brandybuck
Summary: "I thought you said you weren't much of a dancer. You're taking to this better than I," she said. "Templars never attended balls. The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better." Ataashi sobered her amusement at his discomfort, as well as squashed down any girlish glee at the fact that she was dancing with Cullen—even if it was a farce—when she asked, "Do you have any advice on how to proceed?" Letting go, he spoke, "I doubt there's a single person here without ulterior motives." Ataashi attempted humor, "Speaking of ulterior motives, you've attracted quite a following. Who were all those people?" Cullen sighed, "Various nobles. I've given them no cause to hope." Ataashi winced. Those words reminded her of his rejection. Cullen seemed to remember as well, his footsteps faltering, "I don't know why they won't leave me alone." It was on the tip of Ataashi's tongue to tell him all her reasons for, despite his earlier rejection, also not leaving him alone, but she refrained. This moment left her in half agony, half hope. Adaar/Cullen oneshot series self-challenge Part 3
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras, Female Adaar/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: To Be or Not to Be, That is Their Question [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101113
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14
Collections: To Be or Not To Be That is Their Question





	Half Agony, Half Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of standalone or read together stories featuring the Qunari rogue Ataashi Adaar and Commander Cullen Rutherford. "Truth or Lie in the Dark" was the first, "Never in a Thousand Years" was the second, and this is the third of what will undoubtedly stretch out to be six or more stories. Chronologically "Never in a Thousand Years" is the first. The standalone make it easier to write and more fun because if you want just to read one and let your imagination take it in a direction I did not, brava. In any case, cheers for the support and reviews, and let me know if you have a specific scene or event from the game, you'd like to work as a catalyst for the next installment (or even an original prompt).

Ataashi resisted the urge to rip the high-necked collar from around her neck. She also resisted the urge to kick off the too-tight, high shine leather boots that pinched her long toes. In fact, she resisted the urge to rip the entire formal attire from her body and stomp naked through the Winter Palace to the Empress and demand they end this charade. There was a game to be played, and she had a part to play in it. That she had to be fessed up like a roast at Christmas, complete with gold trappings, to play the game had Ataashi gritting her teeth. She almost missed the helpless feeling of being trapped in the sinkhole with Cullen.

As her mind strayed to Cullen, she tensed further. They had almost kissed. Cullen. She, Ataashi. Had almost bloody kissed. Well, in technical fact, their lips had brushed against each other when startled by Sera's timely-untimely arrival. But in no culture or language on Thedas would anyone describe THAT as a kiss. Ataashi inwardly groaned as the memory played out in her mind for the up tenth time. The feeling of their combined warmth, the comforting weight of his body, leaning into hers, the flecks of gold she'd seen clearly in his desire-laced gaze—and she wouldn't lie to herself and say it wasn't desire. Though not a frequent visitor to the land of returned affection, Ataashi recognized the look well enough. Her belly had flipped, wetness pooling between her legs, and she'd been mere seconds away from doing something very, very stupid.

Ataashi still didn't know if she should thank the gods or curse them for Sera's rescue. They'd both been under the influence of those damned sweets from Vivienne, the pain of their injuries, and the circumstances of their isolation, and all that a tempest waiting to wail for misunderstandings. As it stood, Cullen had yet to bring up the incident, and Ataashi accepted her role as coward in this farcical interlude and also avoided the topic. A new tension of awareness Ataashi was certain EVERYONE noted, strained their earlier warmth of friendship, though they both soldiered on in the name of the Inquisition. Thank the god's no one spoke of it.

Well, no one but Vivienne. Ataashi had confessed the whole ordeal to her alone, and it had been a mixture of disappointment and pity lurking in the Knight-Enchanter's gaze when Ataashi finished her tale. Though they'd been forgiven for eating the sweets—Vivienne had intended on giving them to Ataashi as a gift anyway—and Vivienne had nearly applauded Ataashi for finally fessing up to her tenacious draw towards the Commander. Even though he'd rejected her back in Haven, Ataashi's stalwart feelings had never abated, and while there was something to be admired in her tenacity...Vivienne had refrained just at the last moment before the compliment's end, never-ending her sentence, and had given Ataashi a knowing smirk before sashaying away. Ataashi both loved and loathed that woman. She knew how to make her point and with such finesse it was annoying.

In the month, more or less, since their "almost" incident, Ataashi's ribs and arm had healed, and Cullen walked with only a marginally more noticeable limp in the morning. Physically, all was as it had been before the sinkhole engulfed them. But, emotionally and mentally, Ataashi knew she wasn't back to normal, and now knowing Cullen more than she had before the sinkhole, she assumed he wasn't back to normal either. Though she rarely dreamed, when she did, they were plagued with imaginings of what could have happened, be it positive or negative, and when Ataashi woke, she felt the ghost touches of a phantom could've been lover. Ataashi would much rather face down Corypheus over an Orlesian tea ceremony than have this continue as it was. Something had to give way, and soon.

And now, as if matters couldn't get any worse—who was she jesting with, they always got worse—she was on her way to Halamshiral to pounce around like a clown, playing an antiquated and redundant game, and all for the sake of…what exactly? She still couldn't understand why anyone actually believed the Empress would be remotely useful for the Inquisition. She'd yet to even bat a prim eyelash in their direction. The only member of this toxic royal family who'd sent earlier missives had been Duke Gaspard. Ataashi's ears still rung with certain advisor's warnings against having anything to do with the "warmongering bastard"—her interpretation of their sentiments, not their words.

The carriage rocked, and Ataashi smelled the party before she saw it. She knew her senses were far more sensitive than most and, not for the first time, she would be cursed for that fact. Orlesian men and women alike cloaked their natural scents with a variety of perfumes that wrapped together into a tidal wave of headache-inducing sensory overload for Ataashi. She hated most Orlesian nobles for this, though Sera liked to believe there were more reasons that made them kin than mere olfactory preferences. It galled Ataashi that these nobles were too afraid of being natural, of the vulnerability of being without a mask on their face, or a perfumed mask on their body. It was a completely different way of approaching and fighting an enemy, and one she would fail at miserably if forced to take part for much longer than this evening.

Ataashi was grateful that those of noble connection within her inner circle refrained from too heavy a perfumed mask. Vivienne wore the strongest but, either by magic or the materials used in the perfume itself, Ataashi never got a headache from the Knight Enchanter's mixture of lavender and amber. Josephine's perfume was more likely to cause an ache in Ataashi's head when exposed too long to the nearly sickeningly sweet peach and vanilla scent. Still, the ambassador, too, kept it to a more tolerable level. Varric wore a light perfume that was spicy and smoky, but mostly it was disguised by the oil the dwarf used to keep Bianca well maintained. Iron Bull smelled like the oil he coated his horns in, and well, that and musky MAN. Since growing closer to Ataashi, Dorian had stopped using his spiced floral perfume but continued to smell of the products he used in his haircare—they weren't unpleasant per se but astringent. Cassandra, though of noble birth, never attempted to use perfumes. She found it was more likely to give away her position and attract insects. Both she and Cullen preferred their natural scents and, when they had the occasion to bathe, would then smell like the soap they used for cleansing their bodies. Cullen's soap smelled like elderflower, a scent Ataashi had always found relaxing, and when combined with leather and his own natural scent…

Ataashi shook herself out of her thoughts before they betrayed her and looked out the window. The palace was beautifully lit; the partygoers were ridiculously dressed, and she could hear the hushed whispers of intrigue already as their carriage pulled close. Ataashi feared she wouldn't survive the night. Not because of an assassination attempt. But because her brain would implode, leak out of her nose, and leave her a mindless husk of a Vashoth from the mixture of gossip-gathering, overpowering scents, and literal physical restraint from knocking heads together.

"My dear," Vivienne leaned close before they exited their carriage, "do try to look less murderous when you leave the confines of this carriage." Ataashi drew back, her startled gaze moving from the faux horned mask-wearing Knight-Enchanter to a smirking Varric and an equally annoyed-looking Cassandra. Vivienne continued, "Orlesian nobles are like wolves, and they will smell the blood of your weaknesses from far away. Long before you can get close enough to make a difference."

Vivienne was the first to descend to join the advisors, already awaiting them just inside the gate. She moved as regally as expected, with Varric close on her heels, the dwarf far less regal but no less arrogant in bearing, leaving Cassandra with Ataashi. The Seeker stayed by the door and gave Ataashi a sympathetic expression. They had grown close in the time they'd served the Inquisition, finding they both hated the bullshit that surrounded intrigue, and they both preferred to solve problems with a sword. They differed, and this amused Ataashi greatly, in that Ataashi was somehow better with the day-to-day relationships than Cassandra. Ataashi never in her life would've thought she'd be better at the complicated nuances of understanding people and soothing over hurt feelings than a human, but here they were.

"No matter what time of day," Cassandra gripped the edge of the carriage and sighed as she looked out to the crowds waiting for them, "when we return to Skyhold," her gaze was already tired when she looked back to Ataashi, "let us spar away the frustrations this evening will undoubtedly bring."

Ataashi grinned, "That's a deal."

Cassandra's promise had the effect intended, and Ataashi did indeed look and feel less murderous when she emerged from the carriage and joined her companions. There were some last-minute strategic plans mentioned before they adjourned to make their way into the court. It was then that Duke Gaspard approached Ataashi. The confident gait of the man made Ataashi smile. This was a man who knew his abilities, knew his strengths, and would kill the first person who attempted to exploit a weakness. That was a breath of fresh air to what she'd been expecting from Halamshiral. The warmongering bastard was more to her liking than what she'd heard the Empress was like, and as they spoke, he explained his basis for suspicion against the Elven ambassador. Ataashi had no respect for city elves or those that sold themselves into slavery or servanthood. And while she respected the nomadic Dalish hunters, they too struggled to maintain her respect with their refrain from being firm in the face of danger and their unwillingness to commit to any cause outside their own. Solas was the first Elven mage Ataashi had ever worked with. While they had their differences—he was an ethnocentric, racist bastard at his worst—she believed he had good intentions for his race and had a strict code of conduct—even if it wasn't always with what Ataashi would agree. What Gaspard described to Ataashi, these elves seeking to sabotage the first attempt at peace in Orlais in some time, had her grinding her teeth. She promised to look into it.

Nearly an hour later, Ataashi thanked the gods for Vivienne and Leliana's training. She somehow not only made it through the initial introductions to the Empress but did so with enough socially appropriate flair that, despite her horns and everything else that marked her as "lesser than," her dance card was peppered with at least a half dozen names—male and female—within twenty minutes after she'd been left to wander the Winter Palace. The night was still young, and in between those dances—again, she thanked her Orlesian allies for not butchering the dance steps too horribly—she scoured the Palace for evidence to either incriminate Briala or the Duke. To find evidence of a Venatori presence besides that, well, that was just icing on the cake.

Ataashi rounded the corner of the promenade and immediately changed directions when she spied a red-faced Cassandra stomping towards one of the more secluded rooms open to the public. That was not expected, nor did it bode well. Ataashi offered a thin smile to the nobles she weaved around until she found Cassandra again. The Seeker was glowering into a fireplace, fire poker in hand. Though she wasn't actively stabbing the fire with the same violence Ataashi knew she was capable of, Cassandra was standing so tense and straight that it looked as if she were about to pounce on the fire and wrestle the flames. Even the nobles who had earlier been warming themselves with casual conversation by the fire had wisely shifted further away, still close enough to see whatever was to happen with this strange Nevarran, but not within striking distance.

"Cassandra," Ataashi near whispered her friend's name as she approached, "what happened?"

"They never stop." Cassandra punctuated her sentence with a sudden thrust of poker against log, sending sparks soaring up the chimney.

Ataashi shook her, "I would like to be more helpful than a mere listening ear, Cassandra."

"Oh," Cassandra looked at Ataashi, startled as if she were just then aware of the Vashoth's presence, "Maker help me. I didn't realize I'd spoken." Cassandra tightened her grip on the poker before visibly forcing herself to relax her stance and return the poker to its home by the side of the fireplace. "We have more important matters to attend to than my-"

"I beg to differ, Cassandra." Ataashi crossed her arms over her chest. "If you are distracted because of some sort of pain then it would be far more practical to deal with the pain first then get back to business, your mind fully engaged in the task at hand."

Cassandra glared, "You're not moving until I tell you."

Ataashi nodded.

"Well," Cassandra turned her gaze back to the fire, "if you must know, members of my family are in attendance."

"That's-" Ataashi searched for the right description based on Cassandra's obvious aggravation, "bad...?"

"This particular branch of the family has convinced themselves that the most direct path to the Nevarran throne is through a politically driven marriage. They are but one of the many reasons I rarely miss my homeland."

Ataashi opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Varric's appearance, "There you are." Varric's smile was as smooth as always, "I thought I'd find you in the dungeon." At Ataashi's confused look, Varric's smirk deepened even as Cassandra's scowl did, "Arrested for familicide, of course."

"The only person I want to murder right now is you, Varric." Cassandra hissed, her eyes darting about.

"Hey, it isn't my fault your family assumed such connections. Everyone loves a handsome dwarf," Varric winked at Ataashi, "even your family."

Ataashi leaned forward, keeping Cassandra from reaching for Varric's shoulders, to violently shake him no doubt. "Would either of you mind telling me what's going on?"

"You haven't told her yet?" Varric was obviously amused at Cassandra's discomfort. "I'm surprised, Seeker. I thought our assumed engagement would have been the first thing you confessed."

"I'm sorry," Ataashi shook her head, "what?"

Cassandra wrung her hands together, "I don't know what she said to them, or how they knew to talk to her, but Josephine alluded to a long and complex relationship between Varric and myself when they pressed her for details on all my companions. Then, when they finally found and cornered me, Varric and I were in," Cassandra's cheeks reddened and not from the fire's heat, "a compromising situation and they demanded to know when our nuptials were to be."

"You are going to have to paint me a picture of this compromising situation." Ataashi wasn't trying to make Cassandra more uncomfortable than she already was, but this was damned interesting.

"It isn't as sordid as one might hope, Inquisitor." Varric chuckled, running his hand over the back of his neck. "Cassandra and I were following a lead when the damned elf gave us the slip. And by slip, I mean literally." Ataashi raised an eyebrow and Varric shrugged. "Cassandra's family found us in a crumpled heap on the ground in one of the palace gardens. To a casual, highly imaginative observer, one would assume an ill-timed and poorly executed tryst."

"So the politically driven marriage you're upset about is the assumed one between you and Varric?" Ataashi looked back to Cassandra and saw the Seeker's face even redder. "Or...?"

Cassandra growled out what sounded to be a curse in her native language, "One of my aunt's cousins wrote me a letter with yet another proposal from some distant cousin's nephew's brother and I forgot I hadn't yet replied with my refusal until I saw the very man soliciting my hand in marriage this evening. Since I had not yet said no, he assumed there was a possibility of yes, and when he saw Varric and I, as we were, well, the accusations were against my character."

"When it rains," Varric laughed, "but don't worry about it, Seeker. I doubt they will say anything to anyone so your polished reputation won't be tarnished by the likes of me. I may be a rogue but I'm a dwarven rogue, and no one in Thedas would assume genuine interest between us." Ataashi almost missed a strange wincing expression overtake Cassandra's face before she schooled it back into neutrality. _Interesting._ Varric looked back over his shoulder and smirked, "Speaking of rogues, have you checked in on Curly lately?" He shook his head, "Poor man looks ready to crawl out the nearest window and fall to his death if someone doesn't step in soon."

Ataashi frowned. She hadn't yet checked in with him this evening. She'd been so busy tracking down leads and checking in with the others, she'd nearly forgotten about Cullen. Well, not exactly. That was assuredly a lie. Ataashi had pointedly ignored Cullen and avoided his chosen corner of the palace. But, regardless of Varric's description of his plight, Ataashi owed it to their mission to check in with him in case he had a lead she'd not yet heard.

"Will you two be alright?" Ataashi hesitated before moving back into the corridor. Cassandra glared at Varric's smiling face. "I don't want to have to plea for your release if a fight breaks out between you and you both end up in shackles."

"Not to worry, Inquisitor," Cassandra spoke low as she stood to her full height, "all is well. This will not distract from our mission here."

Ataashi looked to Varric, and he held up his hands, "Me too, me too." He shot her a wink before she turned away. Ataashi sighed. The dwarf was intent upon riling Cassandra at every turn.

She left them then and moved through the crowds in her search of Cullen. The current song played by the musicians brought back the memory of her first "training" session in the garden at Skyhold. Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine had arranged a full orchestra of musicians to sit in the pavilion while those unfortunate enough members of the Inquisition who couldn't escape in time were made to mill about with prescribed dialogue. Part training in the game of wordplay and part training in how to walk, stand, bow, and blink while at the palace. This song had been the one playing when they gave Ataashi her first Orlesian dance lesson. She knew how to dance, the simple Free Marches jigs, and Fereldan reels, and she had called upon her natural sense of rhythm to see her through the steps and twists and turns that the promenades of Orlais demanded. Only Josephine attempted kindness when critiquing Ataashi's movements, as both Leliana and Vivienne saw her expert performance at these dances as akin to success in the mission. The whole Inquisition would be judged according to her dance skills. While they hadn't failed so far, and all her partners had walked away without a limp, she knew it was only a matter of time before she messed up and they were all condemned. This place and these people had her on edge and that never boded well for grace.

"Did you just touch my bottom?"

Ataashi rocked back on her heels and peered down the corridor. Cullen stood near the wall, a masked Olesian nobleman standing far too close for mere polite conversation. She'd been just about to move into the garden courtyard outside when she'd heard his voice. It had been turned upwards, a mixture of shock and horror, when he spoke to the man practically leering at him. Ataashi pivoted on her heel and moved towards them, her steps as graceful as possible, considering her intent was to intervene, and physically if necessary.

"I'm a weak man." The nobleman moved closer, as did Ataashi. She couldn't help herself. She could see Cullen's discomfort in the drawn lines of his face, in how his hands were fisted at his sides. "Come and dance with me, Commander." Ataashi's eyes widened, as did Cullen's, when the nobleman reached out and laid a palm against his chest, purring, "You cannot stand about all evening."

Cullen looked over the nobleman's shoulder and spied Ataashi's rapid approach. She saw him visibly relax on a sigh, as if he knew her intent. She stood just an arm's length away, and it took every ounce of her training to keep herself civilized enough not to rip the nobleman off Cullen. It wasn't even her affection for the man that tempted her to do bodily harm to this nobleman. It was the fact that Cullen was not in receipt of the attention, and Ataashi had very little patience for predators like this.

"I'm afraid not, thank you." Cullen shifted on his feet, the nobleman nearly falling into the wall that had been at Cullen's back. Cullen's eyes widened, like a deer caught by the hunter. Ataashi's gaze flicked back to the nobleman, and even through the mask, she spied a tenacious intent to keep on harassing Cullen.

Ataashi forced a smile, "Apologies, good sir, but the Commander has promised me the next dance." She kept her facade up and pointedly ignored any signs of shock from Cullen. "And I believe Madame de Fer also has claim over a dance?" She only looked to him at her question, purposefully folding her hands demurely in front of her body.

"Er," Cullen coughed into his hand, "um, yes." He looked back to the nobleman. "If I'm not mistaken, Lady Josephine also requested a dance, but I told her she would have to discuss the matter with you, Inquisitor," Cullen looked back to Ataashi and moved closer, holding out his arm, "as I believe you demanded at least four dances towards the end of the evening."

Ataashi placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and did her best rendition of a coquettish response, complete with a breathy chuckle, "Was it only four, Commander?" She dipped her head at the nobleman and let Cullen lead them to the dance floor.

Neither of them spoke as they took their places. They both had to awkwardly wait for the first few refrains of the next song to play before either of them recognized the proper dance steps, Cullen being the first to recognize and then immediately fall into place. It was a partnered dance, with only a few moments of pulling away to weave through other partners on the dance floor. It was one of the livelier tunes Ataashi had heard this evening, of a medium tempo, and despite the forced situation, she found she rather liked it.

Cullen pivoted on his heel and took her forearm, pulling her against his side as they continued the turn before sauntering forward along with the other dancers. Ataashi inwardly laughed at the scowl of concentration on his face.

"I thought you said you weren't much of a dancer. You're taking to this better than I."

"Templars never attended balls." They made it to the end of the dance floor, parted ways to weave through other dancers before coming together at the far end of the dance floor to make their way down again. Cullen continued, "The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better."

Ataashi sobered her amusement at his discomfort, and squashed down any girlish glee at the fact that she was dancing with Cullen—even if it was a farce—when she asked, "Then do you have any advice on how to proceed?"

"Social events don't fall within my area of expertise." Cullen circled her before moving to retake hold of her forearm, this time on the opposite side. "There are few here we can trust. Be careful." He growled close to her ear, "I doubt there's a single person here without ulterior motives." Letting go, he ducked under the outstretched arms of another pair of dancers, Ataashi mirroring his movements on the opposite side of the floor. The dancers had to let go for her to duck under or else her horns would've gotten caught.

Inwardly wincing at the abject reminder of her "otherness", Ataashi's eyes traveled over the forms of those standing near the railings above the dance floor. So many smells, so many people, so much noise. If she allowed all of it to come together at once, she'd be a mess. Ataashi shook herself as she weaved her way back down the dance floor, seeking Cullen for the third round. He still didn't look any happier than he had at the beginning of the dance and, figuring they had a part to play, Ataashi attempted humor.

"Speaking of ulterior motives," she winked at his confused expression, "you've attracted quite a following. Who were all those people?"

"Various nobles." Cullen sighed, "I've given them no cause to hope." Ataashi winced. Those words reminded her of his rejection. Cullen seemed to remember as well, his footsteps faltering a moment as he mumbled, "I don't know why they won't leave me alone."

It was on the tip of Ataashi's tongue to tell him all her reasons for, despite his earlier rejection, not leaving him alone, but she was saved by their making it to the end of the dance floor and parting, weaving back for the fourth round. Not wanting to dwell on the water that had passed under the bridge of their relationship, even though it was now muddied with confusion, Ataashi again changed the topic.

"Who do you think the Inquisition should support?"

Cullen shrugged, "The Duke's claim to the throne is fair. And they need someone capable of responding to the crisis." He circled her and, for the first time in the dance, seemed more relaxed. "A military-minded leader seems the best option."

"I agree." Ataashi smiled at his look of surprise. "Leliana said 'sometimes the best path is not the easiest one' and I agree. Whatever it takes to ensure Gaspard's ascension to the throne will not be easy. Still, from what I can tell of the political situation here, that is the choice necessary if this empire is to survive Corypheus. I believe we would condemn far more to their deaths, be they elves or humans if we allowed the Empress, or Briala, to continue to control Orlais."

Cullen smiled, "My thoughts exactly." Ataashi returned the genuine look of pleasure. His movements stuttered, and Ataashi followed in the stumbling, both of them laughing at how their error caused at least one other couple to veer off beat ever so slightly. Their glares were felt by both Cullen and Ataashi, but neither cared.

"So once this is done," Ataashi waited until the dance called for Cullen to pull her to his side before she continued, "I don't suppose you'd save a dance for me?"

Cullen looked confused, "What do you call this?"

"This is a ploy, and you know it." They made it to the end of the dance floor and, as if on cue, the musicians slowed the tempo signaling the end of the dance. "Besides, the song is ending, and I have to get back to my investigation." The music stopped and all the dancers turned to applaud. Ataashi spied Vivienne at the top of the stairs, her mask in place. But Ataashi didn't need to see the Knight Enchanter's face to know what expression she'd have. Ataashi faced Cullen, "I'll see you later, Commander."

She left him before he could turn her down. The night ticked onward, and in the chaos that ensued against the Venatori, and, once she made her move, the Duchess Florian, Ataashi felt relief. Though she had not lied to Cullen in the sinkhole, and she preferred missions that didn't require death or maiming, in this particular case, she found it far preferable to sink her daggers into the flesh of a foe than pretend she felt and thought things she didn't. How anyone could maintain this lifestyle long term was beyond Ataashi. Though killing the Duchess was regrettable to a point, having everything out in the open and the intrigue ended for the time being was quite welcome.

Alone for the moment, Ataashi leaned against the balcony railing. So much around her was made for humans or elves, making the angle she had to bend forward awkward. Though she'd grown used to it, after so much time moving within the human world, that acquaintance didn't stop cricks from building in her neck and back from all the weird positions she ended up holding when talking or, like this, leaning. Behind her, she heard the whooshing sounds of the servants cleaning the blood left behind by the Empress. The musicians had resumed playing, and, to Ataashi's disgust, most of those in attendance had gone back to their merrymaking. Assassinations and executions, Venatori infiltrations, and a general sense of chaos: they expected all this and relished it.

Gaspard was currently meeting with those loyal to him, and her companions were dispersed through the palace, scouring for any more threats. Ataashi knew Vivienne would want her to continue to woo more supporters to their side, but Ataashi didn't want to return indoors until she absolutely had to. She'd long ago ripped open the collar of her formal attire, loosing the buttons along her wrists, and pulled out the itchy pins holding the coiffed curls Josephine had insisted on. Scratching her fingers through her hair and rubbing the skin at the base of her horns, Ataashi took deep breaths. She knew she'd have to right her looks before turning inside, and even then it wouldn't be to the caliber of acceptable as Vivienne or Leliana would prefer, but it was do this or scream. Looking disheveled was perhaps the better choice over appearing completely mad.

"There you are." Ataashi jerked in surprise, one hand fisting and the other immediately traveling to the hilt of her closest dagger. Spying Cullen approaching and not another Venatori, or the Duchess come back from the dead, Ataashi relaxed her stance and looked back over the gardens. "Everyone's been looking for you." He came to stand next to her, pausing a moment before mirroring her stance and leaning against the railing. She was still taller, and she assumed it would always be a barrier for him. "Things have calmed down for the moment." He angled his body until he faced her, and in her peripherals, she saw his facial expression change to one of open concern. "Are you all right?"

A floral-scented breeze bringing curls over her eyes reminded Ataashi that her hair was most likely looking like a nest of snakes. "I'm fine." She attempted to tuck the curls behind her ears. Having her hair down like this, and for the first time in front of Cullen, made her feel as vulnerable as she had when she'd first expressed interest in him. In all their acquaintance they'd both maintained that element of separation, the barrier of their armor between them, their weapons strapped to their sides. Now, though she had her daggers, neither of them wore the armor, and it left both of them far more vulnerable. "It's just been a long night, and I know more trouble is brewing."

Not that his presence was unwelcome. In fact, of all those who'd come with her, he was near the top of the list for welcomed company. But she was emotionally drained, physically unkempt, and didn't know what to expect from him after tonight's events. He'd been the first person she'd called to when pursuing the Duchess out into the garden, demanding that he protect the people. At that moment, when they'd been momentarily suspended beside each other, her leaping after the Duchess, and he rushing forward to lend aid, she'd felt something tug at her heart. There'd been something in his eyes, or perhaps Ataashi had imagined it, that had given her reason to pause, perchance to hope. And now they were alone, and at such a raw time for her, and she didn't know if she could handle whatever was to come between them.

"Indeed, it always is." Cullen leaned back against the railing, his shoulder nearly brushing against hers as he shifted his weight on his feet. They listened to the wind and the sounds of the palace behind them for a few moments until his voice, low but clear, broke their silence, "You know I was worried for you tonight."

"Me?" Ataashi tipped her head back and to the side, staring down at him in surprise. She saw that light in his eyes, the one that had given her pause, and Ataashi braced herself. She couldn't handle it, not now. Schooling her features into an expression of mirth, Ataashi lightly punched his shoulder, "Worried I might embarrass the Inquisition with two left feet?"

"What?" It was Cullen's turn to look confused, standing straight as his own surprise sifted through his body. "No," his wide eyes narrowed, and he moved his legs to stand hip-width apart with his arms crossing over his chest. A stance of power. _Shit._ "No," he repeated more empathically. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats until he, again, was the one to break the silence. This time with a sigh and a return to a more relaxed stance, his arms dropping and his shoulders drooping. "Look, you asked me earlier, and I, well," he ran a hand through his hair, and Ataashi smirked when his hair grew nearly as disarrayed as her own, "I may never have another chance like this." She narrowed her eyes. _What was he about?_ "I must ask," Cullen moved her soul to a bittersweet realm of absolute confusion when he stepped back and bowed low at the waist, "may I have this dance," his lips quirked upward when he added, "milady?"

Ataashi clenched and unclenched her fists. Was this really happening? "I thought you didn't dance." She stalled, waiting for her heart to harden against potential rejection. "At least not for real."

"For you tonight, I'll try." He maintained his stance, bowed at the waist, his hand extended, his expression open.

Ataashi felt bile rise in her throat. This was truly happening. Cullen was really standing here, asking her for a dance, and she really had the option to reject him or accept. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in the position to reject. It had been years. Ataashi felt warmth rush through her body as reality settled further in her mind and heart. This was happening. The tips of her fingers tingled as she lifted her hand and reached for Cullen's.

"There you two are," Cassandra came barging out onto the balcony, "let us return to Skyhold. Our duties here are finished."

"Cassandra," the Seeker stopped and turned to face Varric as the dwarf rounded the corner and also approached the trio on the balcony, "you really need to read more of my stories. Particularly the romances."

Cassandra frowned, "I don't understand." She looked back at Ataashi and Cullen, then returned her scowl to Varric.

"I just mean, you have impeccable timing." Varric winked at Ataashi before turning on his heel and strolling back into the palace.

Cassandra turned once more to look at Ataashi and Cullen. By now, Cullen had stood straight and had his hands clasped in front of his body. Ataashi had her fists clenched at her sides, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. It took another full moment of silence before Cassandra's eyes widened. Things clicked in place, and she stammered what sounded like an apology as she backed her way into the palace.

"Well then," Cullen chuckled, "it seems like we should return."

Ataashi nodded, "The music stopped anyway."

Cullen hesitated, studying Ataashi intently before his body seemed to deflate, and his steps carried him towards the palace. At sight of his retreat, a surge of emotion rippled through Ataashi, and she moved before she thought better. She was beside Cullen before her mind told her to think twice. She had her hand on his shoulder, staying him before her heart told her this was probably a bad idea. And she had her lips pressing against his stubbled cheek before everything clicked together and she realized just what the hell she was doing.

Standing straight again, Ataashi resisted the urge to run, the urge to look away when his eyes met hers.

"Thank you," she forced a smile as she forced her voice to sound light and not tumultuous like her heart, "for the offer."

Cullen smiled, "Oh, you're not out of danger, Inquisitor. There will be other opportunities, and I intend to collect."

With that threat, or was it a promise, Cullen left Ataashi in a puddle of emotional turmoil that was half agony and half hope.


End file.
